SULTANA
A queen she was
with her bright eyes
and a white smile
Always soft was her voice
and joyful
SHA HALEIK ( how are you?)
ADH CHLY (come in)
Whenever we passed by her street
Mom and I would always try
Knock at her door
And she would come down
To open greet us with her usual smile
Dressed in her silk Barakan
Indigenous garb in Libya
The attire befit of the
Tripolitanian Jewess
I loved that so, because
While the chatting was going on
I would sneak downstair
With joy anticipation to
Bang at the piano in semidarkness
Even though I was an aged upright
When I think today
But then it was real treat
To climb up that plunky bench
To rumble away some absurd tune
Some other times I would stay
Almost the entire day
The orange flower blooming
When season was to makeW
Z HAR & AT HAR
In late May
Around the timess when oranges
Blossoms, sacks of them
Would be distilled to make
Liquid clear to lift the spirit
With few drops
A treat in coffee, tea, or lemonade
Even in KAAK or in a SEFRA
Sultana my dear grandmother's sister
You were the closest I had
To Nonna Misah, in reality
Because she left Tripoli
To set sail to a new destiny
To Istrael in 1951
Sultana a giving and caring
In every way
You washed the dead,
When the passed away
Prepping for the world to come
you gave charity every possible way
A saint you were for what you did
And never told
Hashem took you like one
Straight to Olam HaBah
From right there, between the tombs
Of your dear ones, where you succumb
Surely you died like a saint
Leaving with us your bright doctrine
Still with me, mia zia Sultana
May you rest in peace.
Where there are no headstones
Or even a marker
All gone
The Mediterranean Sea breeze
Will tell none.
Zia Sultana was a saint of a woman, she did a special Mitsvah of washing the dead before burial, she died at the cemetery while washing graves, some say she was attacked.